Gemotions

“Well, aren’t you just a bundle of sunshine today?” Eleanor sneered, the words dripping with sarcasm. Her neighbor, Mr. Harrison, stood there, grinning like a fool, his request for the removal of the sycamore tree hanging in the air. She noticed the sweat beading on his forehead, the way his eyes darted around, avoiding hers. The air in her lungs felt thick, heavy. Her jaw throbbed. He didn’t understand the tree's significance, its place in her life. He only saw it as a problem. Every word he spoke felt like an insult, a deliberate attempt to wound her. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to make him understand the pain he was causing. Instead, she took a long, slow breath.